A Mother's Burning Resentment
by JeffersonianGirl2004
Summary: Rowena could never stand Crowley, she blamed the boy for it all. A Rowena character study set after the season 10 finale "Brother's Keeper" because I love to hate the Scottish witch! One-shot and I really don't know why there is no Rowena character tag.


_AN: I don't own Supernatural._

 _So it's time for a Rowena character study. I found myself loving to hate Crowley's witchy mother as I watched Season 10 and I felt like breaking down some of her thoughts. I hope Rowena doesn't seem too OOC but I think I wrote it quite well. Ruth Connell is totally awesome at portraying her and her accent is so damn cool so I pray that this does her justice._

 _This is set after the Rowena leaves Cas and Crowley in the Season 10 Finale 'Brother's Keeper'_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

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Rowena let out a slow exasperated sigh as she settled herself down on the end of a bed in the hotel that she was staying in. Over her three hundred years she had gained quite a fondness for five star hotels. She liked the luxuries and room service almost as much as she liked clicking her fingers and ending the lives of the help.

She felt tired, which was quite unusual for her but it made sense due to the fact that the witch had just spent months unwillingly chained in a grotty old building. Her large green eyes cast themselves over her shoulder bag, which was settled on the desk. Rowena smiled a roughish grin as she remembered what was inside. The Book of the Damned was patiently waiting for her to read it and to unleash it's true magic. She finally could get what she had deserved her whole life – power.

For a spilt second her mind wandered back to the renegade angel, Castiel was his name, which she had put under an attack dog spell. She didn't care about such a thing but she was still wondering whether he had succeeded in killing her son though. Just the thought of him lying lifeless made her smile. She had always hated the boy, resented him, despised him, damned him, but it wasn't until she met him recently in the States and learned of his new status as King of Hell that she truly began to want him dead. Who the hell died and put him in charge? She wondered despite the fact that she had heard the entire Abaddon story before. To admit the truth Rowena couldn't bear to think that her disgusting little boy had dominance over his mother.

The Scottish woman had always blamed Fergus for her troubles with the Grand Coven. If it wasn't for the fact that she had gotten pregnant to a non-witch she may still have been able to use her powers to their full capacity. She had taken her anger out on the boy in many ways back in the early eighteenth century. She had turned down his pleas for sweeties as well as giving him whiskey to get him to sleep at night but she thought her troubles with him ended when she abandoned him at the early age of nine in a gutter.

 _Of course the damn boy managed to get back under my skin again. The bloody King of Hell, of course that is what he became._

Rowena thought to herself as she rose from the bed and strolled starkly over to the bathroom. She peered at her reflection in the mirror and nodded promptly. Her face was made up of pale white skin and both her nose and chin jutted out in a point. She ran a comb through her mass of deep red locks and decided that she didn't look a day over thirty-six. She felt relieved that she had cast the immortal curse over herself when she was still quite young. A few years too late and she'd be all wrinkles.

As the redhead stepped out of her long curve hugging black dress and into a black lacy singlet and panties she thought back to what else she had done earlier that day. It hadn't been all success, as much as she would have liked to believe that it was. She had experienced her first moment of pure emotion in what seemed like at least a century. She remembered what it felt like to finally lay her eyes on Oscar, the Polish farm boy that she had fallen in love with all those years earlier. For a split second she had wanted to press her lips to his and ask him if he remembered her but then she remembered what had to be done so with a flick of her wrist she had stabbed him in his neck. That had hurt, not just a bit but a hell of a lot. She couldn't believe what she had done but she had made a deal with the damn Winchesters and she knew that Dean needed to be rid of the mark.

She pushed the memory of Oscar aside and yet again glanced into the mirror. She wondered whether mirrors really could see into the soul and if so what would hers look like. She decided that it would be black, as black as the lace encompassing her bodice, as black as the night sky outside of the apartment window.

Rowena settled herself down onto the bed and pulled the soft sheets around her waist. She leaned her head against the cushioned bedhead and reached forward for her bag. She unzipped it with a pair of manicured fingertips and removed both her phone and 'The Book of the Damned'. She placed the iPhone 6 plus down on the quilt beside her and laid the book in her lap. She flipped the cover and began to read the first curse using the code that Charlie had decoded for her. Despite all of the hate that Rowena had for most she liked the redheaded girl and she decided that if she could bring anyone back from the dead it would have to be Charlie, or maybe Oscar, but that didn't count.

She wasn't lying when she told Charlie that she reminded her a lot of herself. They really were similar and that made the witch muster up a slight bit of compassion. They were both lonely and lost, which meant that they found their way by losing themselves in their own minds. They sought solace in their own thoughts.

Rowena stretched out both of her legs and shook out her toes beneath the cool sheets. With a smile she reached out for a glass of vintage Champagne and decanted it into her mouth between her thin, red lips. The Scottish witch realised that this was a celebratory drink, a shout out to her success that very day, and she decided that the whole experience had been worth it.

"To me!" She announced egotistically as she downed another glass.

At that moment Rowena practically had it all. She was seated on a bed in a five star hotel sipping champagne with 'The Book of the Damned' within a simple grasp. She also knew that the angel had probably slain her son by now and those bloody Winchester's had themselves caught up in some other damn mess.

For the first time in three hundred years Rowena was at full power and the world was to ascertain that knowledge soon enough but for now the redhead just needed her beauty sleep. She didn't stay looking this good at three hundred by doing nothing.

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 _AN: So any thoughts? Cat got your tongue? If not please leave a review._

 _"Meow!"_


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